


The Hearts of Men

by SilverSkiesAtMidnight



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Kidnapping, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Crime Fighting, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitute Steve, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, but he cares a lot about steve, prostitute!au, steve is a stubborn little shit, tags to be added as I figure out what the fuck I'm doing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 18:26:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11606394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSkiesAtMidnight/pseuds/SilverSkiesAtMidnight
Summary: Having lost an arm in a war he didn’t want to be in, Bucky Barnes is just trying to settle down and live a normal life.It’s boring as hell. But at least it’s peaceful.That is, until a certain stubborn prostitute jumps out of his kidnappers’ car right in front of Bucky’s building.Shit happens.





	The Hearts of Men

Bucky could ignore the fact that he’d been out of anything that could be called fresh food for a week. He could ignore the fact that there was no longer milk or orange juice in the fridge. He could even ignore the fact that he was out of _bread._

What he couldn’t ignore was the totally unacceptable lack of coffee at five in the morning. 

He weighed his options carefully. He could try going without. He stomped this idea out instantly. He could try and get someone else to bring him coffee, but he still had _some_ pride. 

Or… 

He came to a grim conclusion. 

He was just going to have to suck it up and go to the store.

_Shit._

Muttering curses to the empty apartment, he stomped to the door and grabbed his coat. 

He could do this. This was fine. It was three goddamned blocks, _he could handle this._

Outside, the cold was grounding. There was no sand under his feet, no hot sun beating down on him. Safe. 

Still, he found his eyes drawn to the rooftops, scanning, searching for the slightest glint of metal. 

The neighborhood was still quiet at this hour, and Bucky only passed a couple of people on his way. None of them looked twice at him, even with his unshaven face, baseball cap, and shifting eyes. 

It wasn't the kind of neighborhood where people would look twice. He liked that about it. 

He was the only one besides the clerk in the little store - _two exits glass storefront limited cover_ \- and, once coffee was securely in his basket, he took the opportunity to gather whatever other staples he was low on (which, as it happened, was most things). The clerk grunted an acknowledgement, but made no other attempt at conversation. Bucky paid quickly, ready to get home. 

The sun had begun to rise by the time he got out, and the tops of the buildings glowed pink and orange. Early commuters flowed along the sidewalks, and traffic had begun to build on the streets. Bucky stuck close to the inside of the sidewalk, carefully dodging pedestrians. 

He first saw the man two blocks from home, leaning against the wall of an alley, posed in just such a way to show off a body clad in skinny jeans and a ridiculously skin-tight white shirt. His stance was casual, but Bucky didn't miss how he checked out each passerby, all business. Their eyes met, and the stranger shot him the most blindingly bright grin Bucky had ever seen, his entire face lighting up like Bucky had made his day just by walking past. 

Bucky scowled back out of sheer stubbornness. 

The blonde raised an eyebrow, and his smile turned almost cocky. Bucky abruptly had to fight the urge to stick his tongue out at a complete stranger.

Instead, like the _mature person that he was,_ he lifted his chin, looked away, and pointedly did not look back until the man was out of sight. 

_God, I bet he makes good money at that_ , he thought.

…………………………………

The relief of being home wrapped around him like a blanket, and Bucky felt the tension drain from him the moment the door was closed and locked behind him. He set his groceries on the table, taking off his coat and hat. He peered out the curtains, scanning the street below, a well-engraved habit that had stuck with him. He saw nothing of interest, and switched the TV on as he put everything away. 

The newscaster was in the middle of the same story she'd been reporting on for the past three days, her face next to the photo of Kimberly Arlington that Bucky could probably draw from memory at this point. Pretty blonde, seventeen years old, vanished while visiting her parents in the city on vacation from boarding school. No one had seen her since. Considering her family’s wealth, most people were expecting that she’d been kidnapped. 

Apparently her parents had done a press conference the day before, begging the kidnappers to return their daughter safely. Bucky changed the channel before any weeping mothers appeared on screen.

He made himself some eggs for breakfast. It really was nice to have actual food in the apartment again. 

That concluded, he found himself entirely lacking in anything else he needed to do that day, and he did his best to convince himself that this was a luxury, rather than the same dull situation he'd been in for the past three days. 

It wasn't so much that he _wanted_ to do something. It was just nice to have stuff _to_ do. 

He had his weekly appointment with Sam, but that wasn't until Thursday. 

He didn’t even slightly feel like dealing with more anxiety from leaving the apartment again.

So, he settled for his favorite calming activity: he tended to his weapons. 

He swept the apartment, gathering every hidden knife and gun he had, and laid them out around them in a semi-circle, TV switched to Game of Thrones. He set his cleaning kit and whetstone at his side and set to work. 

This carried him through much of the afternoon. By the time he nodded off against the side of the couch, all his knives were sharp as razors, half the guns had been methodically taken apart and cleaned, and the dragons were disappointingly still only the size of cats. 

………………………………

He woke up to find the room dark, and Netflix silently asking if he was still watching. He stood and stretched, back popping from the uncomfortable position he’d fallen asleep in. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he checked his phone. The display told him it was just after ten. Stepping carefully over assorted weaponry, he stood at the edge of the window, looking down at the empty street, bathed in the soft orange glow of the street lamps. He liked this time of night. Quiet. Peaceful.

Naturally, this calm was almost immediately shattered by the sound of squealing tires. A sleek black car whipped around the corner at top speed, tinted windows glinting. It swerved wildly just past his building, and one of the back doors opened, a large figure tumbling out of the still-moving vehicle and into the street. The car screeched to a halt.

There was a tiny part of Bucky that firmly said that there was absolutely no reason for him to get involved in this, this was a _blatantly_ bad idea, he should really just back away from the window and go to bed. 

There was a much stronger part that picked up a knife and a gun and left the building through the back stairwell. 

Tucking the weapons into his belt, he moved with the kind of speed and silence that only comes with practice, looping around the building and through the alley, hiding where exactly he was coming from. 

He made it to the edge of the shadows, and paused, assessing the situation. The man who’d fallen from the car was standing, though barely. A second man was already out of the car, gun in one hand and the other clamped over his eye, cursing. A third was climbing from the driver’s seat. The one who’d fallen out faced them, fists raised like he was ready to fight, despite the fact that he was clearly unarmed, and from the way he swayed unsteadily, either drunk or drugged. 

“Get away from me,” he spit at them. His voice sounded like he was speaking through blood. 

Bucky drew his knife with his flesh hand, his gun with the metal. 

The second man from the car raised his gun. “Get back in the car, you fucking whore, before I shoot your pretty little face right off,” he barked, a dark red trail flowing down his face from beneath his hand. 

With a sharp crack and a yelp, the gun flew from his hand. Bucky emerged from the alley. He had the knife pressed to the man’s throat before he could even turn to face him.

“Turn around. Get in the car. Leave the way you came. _Now,_ ” he snarled.

The man stammered, fear shooting through his face. Up close, Bucky could see the bleeding gash across his eyelid where the blonde had obviously clawed him.

He couldn't help but be a little impressed, considering the other man still looked like he was about to fall over.

Bucky released the now-unarmed man with a shove, allowing him to stumble back to the car. 

He caught the glint of the driver’s gun out of the corner of his eye just in time to raise his metal arm and block it. The force of the bullet slammed into him, and he felt the pain shoot through him as his shoulder was wrenched sharply backwards. 

He didn’t hesitate, letting the momentum spin him, his other hand raising the gun and firing. 

It was intentionally non-fatal, but Bucky still took a slight vindictive pleasure in the man’s shout of pain as he fell behind the car, clutching the brand-new hole in his arm.

Bucky stepped back swiftly, tucked one of the drugged man’s arms over his shoulder, and hauled him into the dark alley before either of the other men from the car could regroup. 

He lugged the blonde behind a dumpster, pushing him behind him and against the wall. 

“Stay back,” he ordered. 

The blonde squinted hazily up at him. “Who are…?” 

“ _Not right now_ ,” Bucky hissed.

He waited until he heard the tires in the street squeal away, and then grabbed the other man again. “Move. Now, before they come back.”

The stranger was far less experienced at moving silently than Bucky was, and he cursed the fact that his building had no elevator with every noisy step up they took. 

He’d left the door to his apartment unlocked on his way out, thank God, and he got them both inside quickly enough. Immediately he hauled him into the bathroom and let him slump down on the floor. 

“What happened?” he asked urgently. “Are you hurt? Who were those men?”

The man lying in a heap against the cabinets blinked up at him. “I think they fucking drugged me. Jerks.”

He actually managed to sound offended. Bucky couldn’t help but snort. “Well, someone did, that’s for sure. Do you know what they gave you?” 

The man gave a lopsided shrug. “I dunno. Stuck a needle in my arm, s’all. I don’t think they gave me enough, though. Think they meant to knock me out, but it didn’t.”

“Judging by the scratches on that guy’s face, obviously not,” Bucky muttered, scanning him. 

He couldn’t find any signs of serious injury, though his face had clearly met someone’s fist a couple times. He grinned up at him through bloody teeth. 

“Hey, that was real nice of you to help me out down there. Thanks.”

“Someone had to help your sorry ass, you jumped out of a _moving car_. Clearly things weren’t going your way.”

The stranger waves a hand, nearly smacking Bucky in the face. “Eh, I had ‘em on the ropes. Still, was nice of you to come down and make sure.”

Bucky stared at him disbelievingly. “Are you fucking kidding me? They could’ve knocked you over by _breathing_ too hard on you.”

“Psh.” The _clearly insane_ man gestured vaguely. “Nah, I was totally winning, just needed a couple more minutes is all.”

“A couple more… Jesus Christ. Okay, I’m going to go get you some ice for your face, and you’re going to shut the fuck up.”

Bucky left the room, muttering something that was definitely rude. He crossed through the dark living room first, looking out the window, careful to keep to the edge and out of view. He saw the black car slowly pass back down the street, searching. He watched until it passed back out of view. 

He stepped away from the window. 

Returning with an ice pack a minute later, he knelt in front of the man, offering it to him.

“Put it wherever the pain is the worst, It’ll help,” he murmured. The stranger accepted it, putting it against his jaw. “What’s your name?” Bucky asked. 

“Steve.”

“Any last name?”

“Just Steve.”

Bucky nodded. “Fair enough.”

He sighed, settling on the floor in front of Steve. “Listen, they’re still looking for you, whoever they are. I just saw their car go through again.” 

Steve’s forehead wrinkled, and he cocked his head, staring at Bucky like Bucky had just kicked his puppy. “I don’t even know who they are, why do they _want_ me so badly?” 

“Nothing good, that’s for sure. I’m going to call the police though, they’ll be able to protect you.” 

Steve seized his shirt as if to stop him from leaving. “You can’t do that,” he said forcefully, blue eyes straining to focus on Bucky’s face. 

Bucky wrapped a hand around his wrist, gently prying the hand off his collar. “ _Listen to me._ I don’t know what you got yourself caught up in, but your best shot is going to be to go to the police. Those men didn’t want you dead, _they wanted you alive_. That should scare the hell out of you.”

“It _does,_ but the police won’t help me, they’d just arrest _me._ They wouldn’t _care_.”

Bucky frowned. “Why would they arrest you for almost getting kidnapped? What did you do?”

Steve rolled his eyes with a huff. “Because I only went with him because I was getting paid. _Duh,_ ” he says, like this should be obvious.

“Why would he…? _Ah._ ” It began to click together, as he remembered what the man with the bleeding face had called Steve. 

Suddenly, in a flash of memory, he remembers the smiling man in the white shirt from that morning. “You’re the prostitute. The one I saw this morning, you smiled at me.” 

Steve’s eyes widened, and he laughed a little. “Did I? Sorry, I don’t really remember. ‘M not surprised I did though, you have a nice face.” He smiled dopily up at him, and then his face grew serious again.

“You can’t call the police. I don’t wanna get arrested. ‘S not fair. Please.” 

He had the best goddamn puppy eyes Bucky had ever seen, and Bucky wavered.  
He ran a hand through his hair, and let out a frustrated sigh. 

“Fine. _Fine._ I won’t call the cops. But I’m not letting you just wander the streets all loopy with them looking for you either. You’re staying here tonight. Just… wait here a minute, I’ll go make up a bed.”

Not waiting for a response, Bucky darted out. _I can’t believe I’m doing this,_ he thought, suddenly wondering how his night got so damn crazy so fast.

He headed into his bedroom, where he quickly swept a pile of perpetually unfolded laundry off the end and into the closet. 

Heading back into the bathroom, he helped Steve up and guided him into the bedroom, where his upper half flopped onto the bed as soon as he was in range with a groan of appreciation. Rolling his eyes, Bucky heaved one leg and then the other onto the bed as well, arranging him in a position that looked semi-comfortable. 

“You’re welcome to borrow pajamas if you want, but I’m sure as hell not undressing you, and I don’t think you’re up to doing it yourself right now.”

Steve mumbled something incoherent into the pillow.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

He tossed a spare blanket over him, as he was lying on top of the comforter. 

“Shout if you need anything. I’ll be on the couch.” He turned to go.

Steve lifted his head off the pillow and called after him blearily. 

“Hey, wait. You didn’t tell me your name.”

_God, this night really is weird._

“You can call me Bucky.”

Steve rolled over, yawning. He pulled the blanket closer around himself. 

“You’re a good person, Bucky,” he said sleepily, eyes already shut. 

Bucky turned out the light, saying nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, chapter one! I do have a rough plan for how this story is going to go, but I fully expect it to change as I actually write it, because screw plans. Also note: Game of Thrones is not on Netflix. Sorry if I got anyone's hopes up. I think this is going to be a pretty neat story, but I would deeply appreciate feedback!! Suggestions!! Criticism!! Things you'd like to see!! Random descriptions of something neat you saw today!! My point is please comment I'm begging you. Comments and kudos feed my tiny withered soul.


End file.
